


Tiger

by roseforthethorns



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bloodplay, Danger, Dark Humor, Dark!Seb, Fear, M/M, Near Death, Sadistic!Seb, Violence, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 03:26:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseforthethorns/pseuds/roseforthethorns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exactly why you should never get Sebastian Moran even the slightest bit tipsy and then mock him. Jim learned this the hard way.</p><p> </p><p>(I own nothing of these characters. All Sherlock rights go to the BBC, Moffat, and Gatiss. I'm just having some fun.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiger

_Seeebbbyy. -JM_

_What now boss?-SM_

_2 things. One, when are you coming back, and two, I'm thinking of rather unspeakable things I want to do to you. -JM_

_And can't I say hi to my favorite sniper? -JM_

_You only say 'Hey' when you fuckin' want something, don't be a prick. You know fine well when I'm coming back, whenever I've knocked that banker off the face of the earth. You know the one, sent me after him earlier today. Well, whatever to that last thing. Guess you're gonna have to wait. -SM_

_Don't be fresh with me, Moran. -JM_

_I can make your life even more miserable than it was when I found your sniveling, drunken arse. -JM_

_I'm not being fuckin' fresh with you, boss. I'm just being truthful- for once. Can you now? I'd like to see you try that, you wouldn't. You fuckin' love me too much. -SM_

_Drop the case and get back here now. -JM_

_Get your sorry arse back here right. Now. -JM_

_Nah. You sent me on the job, I'm gonna finish it. I want to blast this guy's head off. His PA's face'll be priceless.-SM_

_Then do it quick. I'm not in a patient mood tonight. -JM_

_You don't say? Wouldn't have noticed /that/ boss. -SM_

_Again, /fresh/, Moran. You wouldn't believe the things I want to do to you. you'll be lucky to remember your name...unless you figure out a way to stop me. -JM_

_I'd call it funny boss, not fresh. I can imagine what you want, you freak. I'd never let anyone else do it to me. -SM_

_Freak? You really want to go there when I'm in this particular mood, /Colonel Moran/?-JM_

_I'd think very carefully about your situation if I were you. -JM_

_Ooh, you're so bipolar boss. One minute you want to fuck me, the next you want to kill me. Make up your mind. Well, yeah, freak's the right word. No-one normal would even /think/ what you do. The more you know, y'know? -SM_

_I do want to fuck you. I don't want you dead. I just want you screaming, begging for mercy at my hand. -JM_

_So, either get back here or you'll pay. You'll /truly/ pay. -JM_

_Alright, alright, Jesus, keep your green boxers straight boss... 'kay. Bastards dead. Holy crap- oh man, that's funny. The bitch just screamed and fainted. Oh god, that's priceless. You should see_ _the office. Look them all run. Oh boy, that's funny. -SM_

_Yes, highly amusing. Now. Get. Back. /HERE /.-JM_

_Alright, calm it Jim, just coming. Got a car waiting for me? How /considerate/ of you, boss. You must really want me bad tonight. -SM_

_Yes, fine. -JM_

_Who the fuck's this? Don't know this driver. -SM_

_I do, is that so much to ask?-JM_

_New hire. -JM_

_Do try to frighten the poor bastard. -JM_

_He's too cocky for his own good. -JM_

_Had me fuckin' worrying for a second there. Thought it was tweedle twat, the posh, snooty_ _Holmes. You know? The fat one. Oh? That so? No problem boss. -SM_

_I figured you'd enjoy some fresh meat. -JM_

_Fired at his head. Windscreen's shattered. Might as well toss him in the deep end. Anything more? -SM_

_Nope. Just get here. -JM_

_Enjoying yourself?-JM_

_Very much boss. Much nicer ride with a glass of whiskey. You tryin' to get me drunk -SM_

_...perhaps. -JM_

_Not your brightest move boss. You know how I get after a few. -SM_

_I do. -JM_

_I see the car. -JM_

_I believe the man wet himself in fear. Very good job. -JM_

_That it? Boo. 'scuse me while I give him a little threat. Won't be a minute...There. New boy's got his welcome scar. Nice line along the neck. -SM_

_Very well done. Now, come upstairs, Colonel. -JM_

_Leave my gun downstairs?-SM_

_If you wish. -JM_

_...I'll bring it up. Your room, by any chance -SM_

_Of course. -JM_

_Door is unlocked for you. -JM_

_Ta. Be there in a minute. -SM_

_Marvelous. You should know I'm not wearing anything. -JM_

_Didn't think so. Saw the tie on the door, usual sign. -SM_

_Whenever you're ready, pet. -JM_

_Get the crown. You look fuckin' amazing in it, just, get it. -SM_

_Way ahead of you. -JM_

_To be expected. -SM_

_Quit dawdling. -JM_

_Fine. -SM  
_

"Ta-fuckin'-da." Sebastian chanted as he entered the room. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he growled. "Happy now, sunofa..." He looked up from the floor. "Well shit." Running a hand through his hair to sort it, he smirked.

Jim was sitting cross legged on the bed, wearing nothing but the crown, already hard. His face broke into his most clever, sinister grin as he saw Sebastian take him in and blush. "About fucking time, _Colonel._ "

"You gave me a job, thought I'd finish it. If you'd wanted me, you should've kept me home." If that sinister grin was poison, Moran was sure he wanted more, inject it right into the bloodstream. His dark eyes settled on the maniac on the bed, as he carelessly tossed the gun to the floor. He lowered his voice. "If you're gonna look like that, keep me on a fuckin' leash." He sauntered over to the bed, standing over Jim. Taking him in, he couldn't wait the scratch his name into that skin again; the last lines had barely healed.

"Well, if you're _so_ sure I've made a mistake in letting you run free for a few hours, why don't you come _do_ something about it?" Jim purred. "Or are you too tired to do anything but sleep, Colonel Moran?"

He gave a gruff laugh. "I am fuckin' tired, give you that. Funny. I sit on my ass and wait all day, now, all I want to do is sleep." He sat on the edge of the bed, with his back to Jim's side. "Fuckin' joke I am." he muttered, rubbing his brown eyes and the scar over the ride side of his face. Lying back, he stretched out. Looking up at Jim, he sighed. "What the fuck am I gonna' do with you then?" he mused. Reaching up, he nicked the crown and tossed it around in his hands. Forget the tigers he'd slain, he was acting like a kitten with wool. He then put the crown on his chest, purring a little himself. Jim managed a full five seconds before pouncing on Seb. He knocked the crown away and kissed his sniper upside down, hungrily exploring the whiskey touched mouth. "All you have to do is try to stop me, tiger" Jim purred.

The second Jim had tossed the crown away, Moran knew shit was about to go down. Jim loved his crown. But within seconds, it was clear what  he desired more. _Christ_ , Sebastian mused to himself, _that whiskey hadn't helped_. He became an even cockier shit when he'd got alcohol in his system. Was that Jim's plan? Get him even more wound up? Letting a smirk escape while he was being explored, he muttered. "I'm gonna fuckin' try." He couldn't let Jim win all the time. Having power games between the two of them was half the fun.

"Then try, _Colonel_ , before I tie you down and fuck you senseless. I'll make you scream and when you beg, I won't let up. I like my sniper cocky. Makes things fun."

"You'll make me scream?" He laughed, playing into Jim's hands. "Then just you fuckin' try. Go for it. I'll fucking tear you apart."

"Oh Really? I don't think you have it in you, you lush."

He slapped Jim across the face, hard, before digging his nails in, taking away some of the skin. "Don't call me a fuckin' liar." Within seconds, he had the small dagger from his pocket in his palm and was dragging it down Jim's back. Splitting it open and smearing the blood, he muttered. "Try it."

Jim gasped in surprise at the slap, in pain and pleasure as the cold steel sliced him. "I still think you aren't up for it. You couldn't make me beg if you tried."

Digging his nails into the wound and tearing the skin, he gave his boss a dark glare. "I don't want you beg boss. Nah, nah. I want to see you fuckin' _bleed_." He felt the blood seep under his nails, tearing the skin away. "Stain these fuckin' sheets red." The skin curled under him. Signed Sebastian Moran. Jim moaned, a shallow breathy moan. The pain was intense, his skin being peeled away, Sebastian digging his fingers in him. "Fuck me," Jim whispered. "Pound my blood into our bed."

Sebastian smirked. He mirrored his bosses intense, sadistic and insane grin so well, wore it as his own. Snatching the crown from the side, he threw it on his own head. Taking a hand from Jim's back, he let the blood drip down his fingers. Dragging a finger across his tongue, he licked the blood off and raised an eyebrow. It was like a fine wine; red. Dark, smoky, strong and positively addicting. Smoothing Jim's hair back from his forehead and leaving a crimson trail, Sebastian laughed. A mocking laugh. "You said you wouldn't beg. That sounded like one to me." It wasn't clear exactly who was the 'boss' now. Sebastian seemed to have his consulting criminal right in the palm of his hand.

"It was an order Moran. I. _Never_. Beg." Jim's lips curled to see his crown on the sniper's head, his cock aching as Seb licked Jim's blood from his fingers. He knew the blonde's mouth would be metallic with the taste of blood, mingled with the bite of the Whiskey. "So, what's it gonna be, Moran? You gonna sit there all night or are you gonna _try_ to make me bleed? Wait, I already am. Guess you aren't up for it after all."

"Better be clearer next time then, boss." He just playing with Jim now. Torturing him- making him wait. That was the best bit. Getting all the angry and hateful comments from Jim, the orders- _Jesus_ , the fucking orders- that was what he wanted. The next taunt drove him over. "Just getting started. Now, do us a favor; shut the hell up." He gave a laugh, wiping what was left of Jim's blood on his chest. Much prettier now- all that pale white drove him mad. Blank canvas. Now it was art, signed Sebastian Moran. Forcing Jim onto his back, Sebastian crawled on top, the psycho tiger staring down his prey.

Seb's fingers on his chest drove Jim mad with desire, the sniper clearly playing him, and though he'd never admit it, it was working. Jim winced as his raw back pressed into the sheet, but he stared up hungrily at Sebby as the man hovered over him. "Treat my tongue the way you do my cock, Moran. _That's an order_."

An order was an order; the colonel wouldn't disobey that. The tiny little wince drove him to distraction. Catching Jim's tongue as it finished the order, slamming his lips into Jim's, he bit down on the tongue that gave him his orders. His life was between his teeth. Sebastian waited for the arch of Jim's back, just so he could decorate the sheets with red. _God_ , he thought, _I'll make this place a fuckin' mess. He makes me a fuckin' mess_. It was true. Jim drove him completely insane.

Seb biting his tongue made Jim try to press as close to the sniper as possible, back arching, toes curling. He kissed Seb without reserve, lips sliding while the tongue was captive. Jim figured if Sebby gave his tongue a blow job, he'd get the blonde completely hard.

At the arch, Sebastian drove his fingers right into the wound. Scratching new wounds, he grasped about the bed for his dagger, still grasping the tongue between his teeth. Grabbing the dagger and stabbing right into a new patch of skin, he carved a new weeping, red line down Jim's side; he'd skin this bastard alive. Taking the kisses, the red ran over his hands as he held Jim close to him. Letting go of the tongue, he fed his own one into the mouth, tasting the same wine as before. He'd get drunk off of this too easily. Jim loved Sebby taking control, but there was something very threatening about his sniper that had him on edge. Covered in warm, sticky blood, Jim kissed back fervently, tasting his own blood. He knew he had to take control soon or it was very possible Seb would kill him.

Sebastian, enjoying the control far too much for his own good, quickly bit down on one of Jim's lips. Still fully clothed, the sniper ran his hand up Jim's back and grabbed his head. Tugging the head back, contorting Jim to his own design, his other hand grasped the dagger. Breaking off the kiss, he smirked. He _would_ kill this guy. Just because he drove him to it. Pressing the thin blade against Jim's neck, he watched it slowly sink it. He cackled, maniacally, madness etched into his very irises, the blonde murmured. "Beg." Jim had said he wouldn't, but this was a new game now. No rules. "BEG!" Sebastian barked.

Jim's eyes widened, truly frightened of the creature he'd unleashed. Things had gone too far now, Seb's lethal steel digging into his neck, and while the laugh was enough to make Jim moan, he did not like taking orders... but his life was on the line. "If I do, what will you do?" he asked, feeling his body start to grow weak from blood loss.

The criminal was still in the palm of his hand. Six billion people in this world, the most dangerous one out of them, and even then, he, Sebastian Moran, managed to tame the tiger. _This_ was being alive. Hearing the hint, he leaned in closer. "I'll let you live." The weakness was not Sebastian's concern. Jim had asked him to come home. He'd asked for this. He had just _asked_ to be treated this way. A blonde monster hovered in front of the consulting criminal.

"Please..." _Oh_ _fuck Sebastian to the depths of hell for eternity._ "Mercy, Sebastian, _mercy_ ," Jim hated himself and the blonde menace, but his life was infinitely more precious than his pride. He would have to institute a new weapons in the bedroom rule after this.

Cackling at the pathetic beg, the sniper took the dagger out of Jim's neck. Tossing it into the wall behind them, it stuck as if it was a dart. Was his pride truly not worth his life? How... amusing. Sebastian calmed his laughter, taking it down to another smirk. He leaned into Jim's ear, holding his bleeding neck with his free hand. "That'll do." He let go of Jim's head and neck, letting him fall back onto the bed. Keeping the crown, he tilted it comically. He didn't show a shred of concern in his eyes, even as he noticed the stench from the room. He'd remember that look of fear in Jim's eyes forever. Even in the seventh circle of hell that he'd sit in, those eyes would entertain him for eternity. He got up off of the bed and stood up, wandering over to the gun and slinging it over his back. He faced the door, walking out while muttering, "You forget some stuff Jim, you fuckin' know that? I kill people for a living. What makes you think _you're_ so fuckin' special?" He wandered to the bathroom, to get bandages for his boss. What a mess. How quaint.

Jim lay in the slowly growing pool of his blood as Seb slammed the door. Scared, out of breath, and struggling not to panic, the consulting criminal felt utterly helpless. His sniper, his right hand man, his Sebby had just snapped and very nearly murdered him... and the psychotic ex-Colonel had _enjoyed_ it. Jim had seen the lust for power in Sebby's eyes, and it terrified him.

As Sebastian strolled down the corridor, he took a cigarette from his combat's pockets. Glaring angrily at the bent packet, he scowled. Bastard had probably bent his cigarettes. Drawing one out and inspecting it, he made a careless trail of contorted ones in his wake. Bastard had. All but three had been bent. "They were cigarettes, not fuckin' slinkies," muttered Sebastian as he tucked one between his two thin lips. As he reached the bathroom, he grabbed a match from next to the toothbrushes and lit the guilty pleasure. Tossing the match absently into the bath, he took a long drag, but even it couldn't quite calm him right down. Completely high off of the power he'd obtained, he gave a growl. Blowing a few smoke rings, he set about finding bandages from the cabinet.

Once he'd found a few, he shoved them carelessly between his gun and his back, starting to enjoy his smoke. Flicking the ash onto the expensive carpet, he approached the door and knocked. He barked. "Let me in, fucker."

"Door's- open," Jim replied, despising how weak his voice was. He didn't have the strength to move, much less get up and let Sebastian in. besides, the psych tiger was the one who had slammed it in the first place.

Throwing it open callously, Sebastian stood in the doorway. Untucking the bandages from his back and gun, he inspected the fine painting he'd crafted. Killing was an art, but dying was also an art. Jim was incredibly beautiful in that sense. Eyes cast wickedly over his finished piece: the suffering, aching, naked consulting criminal, and Seb felt a smile pulled back on his lips, a mocking one. A pitiful smile- so similar to the one Jim had given him the night they'd met. How that maniac had grinned down at the drunken mess that was Moran. Now, he was still a drunken mess, but he grinned down at Jim.Tossing him the bandages, he barked, "Clean yourself up. You're a fuckin' state."

A beautiful state. He'd cherish that work forever. But true art wasn't stationary. Like one minute works, they had to change to be interesting. Sebastian wasn't much of an admirer. He preferred to create; destroying was a specialty of his too. He slammed the door and left the canvas to wipe himself clean.

Jim reached sluggishly for the bandages, not sure where to start. _Neck,_ he thought, carefully wrapping the cut there before moving to the one down his side and then to the biggest one on his back. It took him twenty minutes to finish, plenty of curses and tears of rage thrown into his personal ministrations. Eventually, he was able to weakly sit up, the entire upper half of his body bandaged in quickly reddening white cloth. He couldn't move from his blood soaked sheets; he didn't even have the power to go to the floor. The room reeked of the metallic scent of blood mixed with, with...

"Fear," Jim spat. " _My_ fear. That fucker's gonna die."

Wandering downstairs, Moran fiddled aimlessly with the crown on his head, poking it with the tip of his rifle. He did the same to dead bodies, on occasion. He loved wearing the crown- some part of him felt it should've stayed on his head. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he could see Jim's favorite suit hanging on the door to the kitchen, just back from the dry cleaners. The pale white of the shirt and tiny handkerchief from the top pocket glared back at him. He stared hatefully at the blank color. The classic Westwood, the clothes that covered his naked work. The suit wasn't so intimidating anymore. Didn't seem all that beautiful either.

As he rested his hand by his side, a drop of fresh blood scampered back down his arm. Smirking, he let it fall to his fingertip. He knew exactly what to do.

In the tiny white section of handkerchief that peeked out of the top pocket, he wiped the blood off.

Signed, Sebastian Moran.

_SM_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my co-author and the ever violent Sebby, superkingfoo. This happened sometime around 11pm on Omegle and we weren't done until somewhere around 3am, both going "What the fuck just happened?"


End file.
